


Walk with the sun hand in hand from the wreck

by should_be_asleep



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Boys In Denial, First Kiss, Fluff, Geralt Deserves Nice Things, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Getting Together, Holding Hands, I just want them to be happy okay, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, Sensory Overload, Soft boys being soft, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, hand holding, idiots in love but they won't admit it yet, it gets better as it goes along i swear, let Jaskier hold Geralt's hand, soft boy Jaskier, stubbornly ignoring canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:47:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24276082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/should_be_asleep/pseuds/should_be_asleep
Summary: 5 times Jaskier held Geralt's hand, and 1 time Geralt held Jaskier's-------Title from 'Battle Cries' by the Amazing Devil
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 57
Kudos: 497





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work for the series, any comments would be welcomed! Updates should be coming soon!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowds really are a pain

Jaskier loves crowds. He thrives off the energy of a group of people all singing and drinking and making merry, it’s one of his favourite parts of being a bard. But even he had to admit that sometimes crowds can be inconvenient. Take now, for example.

Jaskier had been requested to perform at a royal banquet and had been practically vibrating with excitement ever since receiving the summons, even though they were the type of nobles to not offer accommodation for their entertainers. He finally managed to convince Geralt to come with him through a combination of guilt-tripping (“really Geralt, you should be excited for me too, that’s what friends do!”) and the undeniable power of annoyance through constant begging until the witcher finally agreed to come for his performance, but no longer than that.

That condition of his presence was the reason Jaskier found himself trying to make his way through the bustling crowd of nobles he had just finished performing for, still trying to catch his breath from the high-energy show. Normally, this would be the point where Jaskier would find a woman (or man, he wasn’t fussy) to share a few drinks with and then sneak off with them for the night. Recently, however, he found the only company he wanted after his work was done was that of his white-haired friend.

“Geralt!” He called out, pushing past a couple who were getting close to crossing the line of what was acceptable to do in public. When the other man showed no sign of slowing down, Jaskier’s efforts to be gentle started to weaken, nearly shoving other people aside on his quest. He hadn’t even thought there was an extraordinary amount of people here, but now it seemed he could barely take a step without crashing into someone.

He finally managed to start gaining on the retreating figure of the witcher, who, despite his more intimidating presence, was having a similar problem to him. Jaskier stumbled over the last few people, before reaching his hand toward Geralt’s gloved hand. He saw the other man stiffen at the contact, using it to his advantage and pulling himself to the witcher’s side.

“You must be rubbing off on me, dear witcher, because even I think this crowd is excessively large.” Jaskier muttered, taking the opportunity to intertwine his fingers with Geralt’s own, starting their quest out of the room again, attempting to pull Geralt along with him. The shock from someone holding his hand allowed Jaskier to tug them both to the exit, finally freeing them from the herd of people in the room.

“Dear gods, I’ve never seen that many people in one place. There’s no way they all know each other, half the bloody kingdom is in there!” Jaskier leaned against the corridor wall, taking a moment to catch his breath. He glanced up at his friend, who was being even more silent than normal.

He followed Geralt’s gaze down to their hands, still firmly linked together. Suddenly Jaskier was grateful for how much effort escaping the banquet was – his red cheeks could reasonably be blamed on something other than the wave of heat he felt flooding through him. He coughed once, before releasing his hold on Geralt’s hand.

“Sorry about that. I thought we’d never escape otherwise!”, he chuckled nervously, “Shall we head back to the inn now? I don’t know about you but I’m absolutely exhausted!” Relief filled him at the grunt he received in reply as they began their walk back to the nearby town.

Jaskier tried to calm his thoughts as he lay in bed that night, but the look in Geralt’s eyes when Jaskier held his hand kept presenting itself. Jaskier sighed. It was going to be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier fixes up an injured Geralt

Jaskier wasn’t nervous. Absolutely not. The bed rolls just weren’t laid out right so he had to fix them, and their travel packs were so messy they were really due to be organised, and the new song he was working on was good but not quite perfect yet and-

Okay. Maybe he was nervous, just a bit. He knew he was being stupid, Geralt would be fine, he’s always fine, so what if he was taking a bit longer than normal tonight, it’s all perfectly okay!

Jaskier was so caught up in convincing himself that he was fine that he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching the campsite until he heard the clang of metal from swords hitting the floor.

“Sweet Melitele, Geralt! You scared the daylight out of me, I fear my poor heart shall never recover!” Jaskier whirled around, hand clutching his chest. The gold-eyed man grunted in response, beginning the process of removing his armour, wincing slightly as he did.

Jaskier’s eyes quickly searched Geralt’s body looking for injuries and landed on his inner forearm. There was a gash spanning the distance between his elbow and wrist, with a small stream of blood making its way down the dirtied skin. It didn’t look dangerously deep, but the risk of infection was still one that wouldn’t be wise to leave to fate.

Body entering autopilot, Jaskier started gathering the medical supplies as Geralt finished removing his bloodstained armour, the routine nature of it doing something to soothe his racing heart.

“Come here, Geralt”, Jaskier prompted, heart swelling a little as the witcher obliged without complaint, sitting down roughly on one of the logs around their campfire. Jaskier gently brought the injured arm closer to him, realising it was deeper than he first thought.

“What happened?”

“Alp had backup. Fast.”, came the broken reply. Jaskier nodded, soaking the rag he had picked up in rubbing alcohol.

“Well I know I don’t have to warn you but this is going to hurt I’m afraid,” Jaskier waited a beat before gently pressing the cloth to the edge of the wound. There was no reaction from the witcher, so Jaskier slowly pressed forward, wiping away the dirt around the cut, moving the cloth to the deeper part of the injury.

As he pressed down, Geralt’s face tightened, a small grimace appearing on his face. Jaskier tried to work faster, but there was more dirt in the injury than would be safe to risk, so he muttered a quick apology, pressing further into the wound.

Pulling the cloth away for a moment to add more rubbing alcohol, Jaskier started humming the new song he had been working on to comfort both of them. With the first wipe of the rag across the wound, he heard Geralt curse under his breath and felt his body stiffen in his hands.

Jaskier considered switching to his tried-and-tested tactic of trying to distract from the process by filling the silence with whatever was running through his head at the time, but as he opened his mouth something unexpected came into his head.

The banquet. Grabbing Geralt’s hand. The way Geralt’s gaze locked on their hands. The unidentifiable look in his eyes.

Well, no time like the present, Jaskier reasoned, closing his mouth and resuming his humming. He carefully continued cleaning the wound, gaze flickering to the other man’s face, before shifting his body so Geralt’s arm was lying across his knees. His now-free hand hovered in the air for a moment as he tried to calm himself, then made its way to rest in the witcher’s upturned palm, linking their fingers and squeezing gently.

If Geralt was tense before, he had become the closest a living being could to an actual rock that Jaskier had ever witnessed. For one long moment Jaskier thought he would rip his hand away, eyes filled with anger at Jaskier’s bold act.

But then.

Very slowly.

Geralt squeezed back. His gaze was firmly fixed on the fire, but Jaskier felt the tension slowly leaving the other man. Jaskier’s heart did a display of acrobatics that a travelling troupe would be jealous of, and Jaskier had to force himself to focus on his task, slowly rubbing his thumb along the other man's hand. With one more squeeze of reassurance, Jaskier finished cleaning the wound, dropping the rag onto his leg and reaching for the gauze to wrap the arm in.

Unravelling the bandage was trickier than normal, due to one of Jaskier’s hands being out of action, but he had no intention of freeing it up, and neither, it seemed, did Geralt. All too soon, the injury was wrapped.

“There you go, good as new!” He gave a half-hearted flourish. Geralt’s gaze finally shifted from the fire down to his arm, eyes briefly flickering across Jaskier’s face before humming in a way that Jaskier took to mean ‘oh thank you Jaskier you’re truly a gift from the gods themselves and I am eternally grateful for your help’, or something like that.

Jaskier paused for a moment, squeezing his witcher’s hand one last time before removing his hand from the grasp.

The rest of the evening proceeded as normal, with the addition of Jaskier trying desperately not to think about how cold his hand felt now and deciding wholeheartedly to ignore that he had called Geralt ‘his’ witcher. Unfortunately, Jaskier’s heart was never very good at doing what he wants, and the feeling of Geralt’s hand in his haunted his thoughts until he finally drifted into unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big city + festival market = an overwhelmed witcher

Jaskier tried his best to make sure nothing he did overstimulated Geralt’s heightened senses, discreetly switching the potent oils he used to more gentle ones, learning when was a good time to simply hum to fill the silence rather than use words. Unfortunately, he couldn’t protect the man from everything, including festivals in large cities.

They had to stop off to stock up on their supplies, it should’ve been a simple job. But when the pair arrived in the city, they found the midsummer celebrations were in full swing already, the streets packed with bustling crowds, colourful banners decorating every building, music coming from all corners, dozens upon dozens of stall vendors shouting, various smells wafting together from all corners of the city.

Used to the commotion of city life, Jaskier continued on their path, unfazed. He was part way through his story when he realised he was no longer being followed by a brooding witcher.

“Geralt?”, he called, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he spun around, looking for his companion. He finally found his target frozen in place by a small building. He felt a jolt in his heart at the grimace on the other man’s face.

Jaskier quickly worked his way back through the steady stream of people walking the market, his mind entirely focused on what could have possibly happened to evoke this sort of reaction from the witcher.

“Geralt? What happened? Are you alright?”, he asked as soon as he was close enough to his friend. His confusion was only added to by the witcher wincing at his words, pulling away slightly as if the words were stinging him, his jaw clenching.

“Geralt?”, he tried again, more softly this time, holding his hands up as he approached, “Please talk to me Geralt, what happened? How can I help?”

He watched as Geralt took a few unsteady breaths, his whole being visibly tensing. His eyes were scrunched closed.

“Geralt,” Jaskier breathed out, his own heart feeling pained watching the man in front of him.

“Too much,” the response came through gritted teeth, Geralt’s hand starting to tremble slightly by his side.

“Too much what? I need just a bit more to help you, Geralt.” Jaskier encouraged softly, trying not to focus on how much it hurt him to see Geralt like this.

“Everything. Smell, sound…” the witcher trailed off, hands clenching into fists, his eyes still firmly shut as his ragged breathing continued.

Jaskier’s face contorted from one of concern and confusion to one of sympathy and the want to help. He had seen Geralt wince at the occasional overstimulation of one of his senses, but this market was an attack on all of them at once.

Trying to collect his thoughts, Jaskier looked around them to try to find any way to escape the streets. His heart skipped a beat when he found a side alley that would lead them away from the city back to the forest, trees visible through the small gap between buildings.

“Okay, I’m going to get us out of here, but you need to follow me Geralt,” he tried to coax the older man gently, taking a step back towards the alley, but Geralt remained firmly in place, his fists still shaking by his side.

Shit, Jaskier thought, this was not going to be an easy task.

“Geralt, can you open your eyes for me? I can see the forest from here, it’s really close.” Jaskier watched as one of Geralt’s eyes slowly opened slightly, but the man still made no move to follow him.

Jaskier racked his brain for solutions. The longer Geralt was being barraged by the sensory overload the worse he would get. Eyes landing on the fist trembling by the other man’s side, Jaskier’s mind provided him with only one solution.

Slowly, Jaskier stepped closer to Geralt, waiting for any reaction. He didn’t receive one. Somewhat encouraged by the lack of bad reaction, Jaskier took a breath and gently reached his hands toward Geralt’s fist.

Cupping Geralt’s hand in his, Jaskier began to rub small circles into the other man’s hand, doing his best to suck away the tension that riddled the witcher’s body. He could feel Geralt’s gaze on his face, shifting his own away from their conjoined hands to meet the golden eyes that looked at him.

“Can you walk with me?” Jaskier asked softly, searching Geralt’s eyes for any signs that he was doing something wrong. Geralt nodded his head sharply once, fist unfurling enough to allow Jaskier to slip his fingers between Geralt’s, their palms pressing together.

“Okay, perfect, you’re doing great, I got you.” Jaskier murmured encouragingly, slowly starting in the direction of their escape, his other hand still tracing circles on the back of Geralt’s hand. He tugged gently on his hand, finally being met with Geralt’s stiff footsteps.

Jaskier hummed softly under his breath as they skirted the outlines of the market, murmuring words of encouragement and tightening his grip on the other man whenever he felt him tense up at another particularly loud shout.

Eventually Jaskier managed to lead them down the alley to the edge of the forest, guiding his witcher to a small clearing in the trees. He turned his gaze to the other man, his grip on his hand still firm. Geralt’s breathing was still uneven, so Jaskier removed one of his hands and reached for Geralt’s free hand, pressing the palm to his chest.

“Breathe with me, Geralt. It’s okay, we’re out now, it’s over, I’ve got you.” He met Geralt’s gaze, watching intently as the witcher tried to match his breathing pattern. Relief filled Jaskier’s body as he saw Geralt’s breathing slowly return to normal.

“Better?”, he asked quietly, receiving a nod in response. They were quiet for a few minutes, Jaskier trying his hardest to allow Geralt to regain control of his thoughts without interruption.

“Thank you.” Geralt muttered tensely, obviously still not quite comfortable with his words. Jaskier’s eyes softened, his heart swelling slightly.

“No need to thank me, my dear. I couldn’t bear to see you hurting like that.” Figuring that boundaries had already been shoved firmly out the way, Jaskier brought his witcher’s hands to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles.

“Now, you’re going to stay here for a moment while I go and retrieve Roach from the stable, then we can be back on our way, alright?” Jaskier waited until he received a hum of assent. He gave one last squeeze to Geralt’s hands before releasing them, flashing a soft smile to his witcher.

“I’ll be right back, I promise. Don’t go causing trouble without me!” With that he was off, winding his way back to the inn they had left Roach at, his thoughts finally slowing to their usual pace.

He thought about where they would get the supplies they still need, about how to avoid situations like that again, about how unfair it was that Geralt had to be so affected by things. He most certainly didn’t think about how his heart felt as he pressed his lips to the calloused knuckles of his friend's hand. Absolutely not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your support! I'm glad you're enjoying this as much as I am!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt's latest success leads to a night of happiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit of a different tone to the other chapters, hopefully you'll enjoy it too, it was very fun to write!

Jaskier was having the time of his life. The people in the tavern he and Geralt were staying in were one of the most receptive and energetic crowds he had performed to in a while. They were singing along to his songs, cheering wildly between each one, and had even created a makeshift dance area in the middle of the room, celebrating their freedom from the monsters that had been plaguing them until Geralt came along. He was also making a very pretty penny, but at this point he was so caught up in the performance that coin was the last thing on his mind.

Pure joy ran through his body as he sang and danced with the locals, the mood in the building completely infectious. Jaskier laughed happily at an old couple who had joined the dancing with all the energy of the younger customers.

This, he thought, was the reason he was a bard. Nothing brings people together and restores the soul like music and laughter.

He span his way between tables, fingers never missing a note, belting out the words to the accompaniment of the revellers.

He finished the song, another wave of cheering erupting from the crowd. The grin on his face stayed firmly where it was, even as he panted trying to catch his breath. The long journey of the past day was long forgotten, and Jaskier’s heart felt lighter than it had in weeks.

His eyes darted around the room, taking in the happy expressions on the patrons, receiving a pleased nod from the tavern owner. His gaze briefly passed over a table in the corner occupied by his white-haired friend, and he did a double-take.

The witcher was watching him intently, but his signature scowl wasn’t present on his face. The corner of his lips were upturned ever so slightly in a way that someone who didn’t know him better would miss, and there was a glimmer in his eyes. To any bystanders, the man probably looked indifferent at best, but to Jaskier he was practically grinning.

The sight only added to the list of reasons Jaskier’s heart was beating wildly, and his grin somehow managed to get bigger. He made eye contact with the other man from across the room, doing his best to memorise how relaxed the witcher looked. Geralt so rarely got to truly enjoy an evening, and in Jaskier’s mind he looked absolutely _ethereal_.

In the past, this thought would have scared the living hell out of Jaskier, but he had recently started to accept that his heart was weak for his witcher. The man deserved love, and Jaskier certainly had enough of that to give. No matter what anyone else claimed, he knew that Geralt was a good man, kind-hearted, and he had saved Jaskier more times than he could count.

Seeing Geralt so happy filled Jaskier’s already-full heart until it was practically bursting, turning back to the crowd and restarting the singing with even more energy than before. His heart was singing, and he let it flow out into his actions, glee fuelling him to keep playing.

After a few more songs, the voice of the tavern owner came ringing out, announcing that fireworks were going to be set off soon, prompting a surge of people running out the tavern door, tankards still in hand. Jaskier, still buzzing from the atmosphere in the tavern laughed in delight, darting over to the table his friend was seated at.

“Come on, Geralt! We can’t miss the fireworks! They’re in your honour!” Jaskier grinned at the witcher. The bard didn’t leave any time for his companion to argue, slinging his lute onto his back in one swift movement before grabbing at the hand that was on the table.

Before Geralt could respond, Jaskier was off again, pulling his friend to his feet and out the door with the crowd, his fingers tangling with Geralt’s as they went. He was met by surprisingly little resistance as Geralt allowed himself to be manoeuvred by the excited bard.

They made their way up the hill with the other townsfolk, Jaskier finally catching his breath when they reached the top. A moment later, the sky lit up with a colourful display of fireworks, met by enthusiastic cheers from everyone watching, Jaskier included.

As the display got into swing, Jaskier became aware of the fact that he was still holding Geralt’s hand, although his grip had loosened slightly as he stared at the sky. His mood was too good to ruin, and, filled with an untainted happiness from an evening he would be certain never to forget, Jaskier felt brave in his actions.

Tearing his gaze away from the sky, Jaskier moved his hand so it was more securely in Geralt’s hand, and squeezed his fingers hard. The witcher’s eyes flickered over to meet his own, and Jaskier grinned in delight at him, wrapping his other hand around the man’s arm.

He watched as the gold mixed with what he had learned to be happiness, and the corners of his mouth turned up in an honest-to-god _smile._ It was a small one, granted, but it was the most beautiful smile Jaskier could ever remember seeing. Jaskier laughed happily again, a melodic sound leaving his mouth, and he felt Geralt squeezing his fingers in response.

His eyes returned to the sky at the sound of another firework going off, running his thumb over his witcher’s knuckles, aware of the tightness of their grip, neither of the men wanting to let go.

Yeah, Jaskier thought. He was going to remember this night _forever._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a rough hunt, feelings are expressed

Jaskier’s not a very subtle person. His bright clothing makes him stick out like a sore thumb in any crowd, his loud voice and constant chatter allow him to be heard from miles away, and his personality leaves everyone he encounters with a vivid memory of their time together. The man in question is very aware of all this. He’s never listened to any attempts people make to tone him down a bit, simply grinning in return and carrying right on.

So, it comes as an incredible surprise that Geralt somehow hasn’t picked up on the bard’s feelings for him. He parades up and down the continent singing his praises, for Melitele’s sake!

Even discounting the songs, Jaskier’s never been one to hide his affections, ensuring Geralt’s healthy enough to keep going, keeping him somewhat presentable rather than covered in whatever monster he last killed, and more recently, holding hands with the man.

That last development still makes Jaskier’s head spin a bit. For all that he sings about love and feelings, it’s a whole different situation when you’re actually deciphering the clues, especially when said clues come from an emotionally constipated witcher.

Jaskier is sure that Geralt must enjoy the hand holding too, not being one to do things he doesn’t want to, especially when it comes to physical contact. He’s seen the way the tension in the white-haired man’s body seeps out of him when he takes his hand in his own, and he’s been a first-hand witness to the way his face softens at the gentle caresses of a thumb across the back of his hand.

So yes, Geralt definitely likes the hand holding, even if he’d be the last to admit it. However, there’s quite a large jump between enjoying holding someone’s hand and being in love with them. This thought keeps coming back to bother Jaskier every time his brain gets a bit ahead of itself.

Regardless, Jaskier doesn’t let this stop his displays of affection. Jaskier was already a physically affectionate man, but ever since that wonderful night on the hill, he became even more so. He nudges his legs against Geralt’s by their campfires, throws his arm around his shoulders after a few drinks in the taverns, leans against his torso when they’re sat a tables together, and starts taking his hand in non-emergency situations.

It started relatively slowly, with lingering touches on his hand, before developing fairly rapidly into Jaskier slipping his fingers between Geralt’s at any given opportunity, almost always instantly receiving a squeeze in reply, even if the other man’s focus is elsewhere.

Jaskier was happy with this new routine they had fallen into. He could live with Geralt never returning his feelings if their life was like this.

‘There’s probably a song in that’, he thought, smiling to himself as he plucked out a melody on his lute. He was waiting at their camp for Geralt to return from killing the monster of the day, taking comfort in the sounds from the birds and bugs around him.

He remained in his little bubble until he heard Roach nicker, moving his gaze over to the horse. She was looking at the trees, where Jaskier could just see a figure approaching. Taking a breath, he set his lute down gently against a tree, a small smile appearing on his face as his witcher returned.

“All sorted?” His eyes trailed up and down Geralt’s body, inspecting him for any injuries. He was met with silence, rather than Geralt’s usual monosyllabic response, moving his eyes to the other man’s face.

“Geralt? You alright?” Gold eyes flickered to meet his, and Jaskier was surprised to see so much tension in them, considering Geralt seemed to be mostly uninjured. The other man’s jaw was clenched and the hand by his side was shaking slightly.

Okay, now Jaskier was officially worried.

“Geralt? Please, talk to me. What happened?” Jaskier’s eyes searched his, looking for any reason he could discern for the strange behaviour. “Did something go wrong?”

“It wasn’t a vampire.” The other man forced out, sticking his sword into the ground, eyes fixed on the patch of dirt next to it.

“What was it, then?” Jaskier encouraged, trying to give the other man time to find the words he needed.

“Doppler.”

Jaskier waited silently, almost hearing Geralt’s brain processes as he worked to relay the evening’s events. He nodded gently, keeping his gaze on his face.

“It knew I was coming. It looked like…” Jaskier could see the pain flash across the other man’s eyes as he trailed off.

“Who did it look like, Geralt?” He asked softly, slightly dreading the answer.

There was a pause before Geralt brought his eyes up to meet Jaskier’s.

“You.”

About a thousand thoughts flew through Jaskier’s head at that. He blinked hard, trying to focus his attention onto why that would have such an effect on the witcher. He knew it was a doppler, so why did he- _oh_.

“Oh Geralt,” Jaskier whispered, one hand coming up to cup the witcher’s face, the other slotting easily into the other man’s hand. He felt the witcher shudder slightly, leaning his head into Jaskier’s touch, his hand squeezing back, hard.

“Had to kill it.” The white-haired man pushed the words out through gritted teeth. “Had to kill _you_.”

Jaskier felt his heart break at the words, seeing the pain on his witcher’s face, wanting desperately to make sure he never feels it again.

“Oh, my dear witcher, you didn’t kill me. It was some very rude copy of me, you did the right thing. Now thanks to you, people will be safe. _I’ll_ be safe.” He stroked his thumb across Geralt’s jaw and traced small circles with his fingertips on the back of his hand. The hand on his face dropped away as Geralt let out a sigh, taking his other hand instead.

“It felt so real.” Geralt’s voice was pained, and Jaskier felt him increase the tightness of his grip on his hands.

“I know, dear heart. But it wasn’t. I’m alright, I’m right here. I’m safe. With you. I’m not going anywhere.” He promised, tugging the other man closer to him, continuing stroking his thumbs across the surface of his hands.

He was met with no resistance, the witcher’s eyes fluttered shut as he exhaled deeply. Jaskier gently leant forwards, touching his forehead against Geralt’s.

“You’ve still got me. Nothing is going to take me away from you. I promise.” Gold eyes met blue across the small gap between them. Jaskier maintained the eye contact as he brought their joined hands up, pressing soft kisses to each of his witcher’s knuckles. He saw Geralt’s eyes searching his own, and opened himself up for the witcher to see. He let everything he felt for the other man show on his face, hoping it would be enough.

Geralt seemed to have found what he was looking for, a small breath escaping his lips as his gaze quickly flicked down to the bard’s lips then back again. Jaskier felt his own breath catch, his heart hammering in his chest.

There was a moment where nothing happened, both men staying very still.

Then there was movement. Jaskier had no idea which of them had moved first, the thought seeming to cross both their minds at the same time, but quite frankly he didn’t care.

He didn’t care about anything else in the world, his usually loud and frantic mind finally quietening. He didn’t care about the slight stench of blood that filled the air, he didn’t care about the breeze that would normally have him shivering, or the sounds of the woods.

The only thing Jaskier cared about at that moment was the feeling of Geralt’s lips on his own.

It started slow, with a gentle press of lips together. Then, Jaskier snaked an arm around Geralt’s neck, his other hand refusing to leave the grip it was in, and the kiss became deeper and more desperate. Jaskier tried to pour all his love for his witcher into the kiss, trying to take away all the pain he had ever felt with his lips and tongue.

He felt Geralt’s free hand come around his back and grip his shirt, bunching the material together as he was pulled flush against him. Their tongues danced together, discovering even more about each other to add to their comprehensive knowledge of one another.

Eventually, the slide of their lips stilled, pausing to allow them to catch their breath. Their foreheads pressed together again as they panted gently.

“I can’t lose you.” Geralt breathed out, his eyes opening to reveal vulnerability. Jaskier pressed a short kiss to his lips, squeezing his hands gently.

“You won’t. I’ll always be here, my love.” A small smile appeared on the other man’s face, and Jaskier knew a similar one was on his face.

“Come now, let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?” He slowly broke away from the small space they had occupied, leading Geralt over to sit on a log by the campfire to start on their post-hunt routine.

That night, Jaskier pulled his bedroll over to Geralt’s, heart swelling as his witcher lifted his arm for the bard to slot himself under. As soon as he was in position, their hands were drawn together, as if by a force of nature. Jaskier intertwined his fingers with Geralt’s, and his heart felt lighter than he ever remembered.

In the witcher’s arms, Jaskier felt protected. He felt safe, he felt secure.

Most of all, he felt loved. And he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your lovely comments, they make me so happy to read, they really mean so much! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, only one to go now!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier really wants to make a good impression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your support throughout this little adventure! I hope you enjoy this last chapter, thank you for all the lovely comments, they make me so happy to read!

Jaskier is very confident in his ability to win over people. He doesn’t even mean to do it, half the time. He’ll just flash someone a smile and start a brief conversation, and 90% of the time that does the trick. He’s won his way into courts and beds and inns this way, so he doesn’t really get nervous around new people.

Except this time. The bard can’t recall the last time he felt this unsure about how a meeting was going to go, and the high stakes only made his nerves worse. And when he’s nervous, he talks.

“Geralt, are you sure this is a good idea? There’s still time for you to go and I can find an inn somewhere that will take me, I’m sure of it!” He rambled, hands flailing dramatically in the air as they walked, trying to get rid of some of his nervous energy.

He glanced at the witcher’s face and received only a raised eyebrow in response.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that!” Jaskier huffed, thoughts still going a mile a minute.

“Why are you so nervous?” Geralt asked gruffly.

“Because this is a big deal! If this doesn’t go well then I’m in big trouble, basically!” Jaskier exclaimed. “You could try to be more sympathetic about this, Geralt! You’re supposed to be my lover, my rock, my safety net to catch me when I fall, and right now I definitely feel like I’m falling!”

Geralt’s amused huff and the look in his eyes only served to fluster Jaskier even more.

“You’ll be fine.”

“Oh, wow, thank you, Geralt! I feel so much better now! Everything is absolutely perfect thanks to that uplifting statement!”

Jaskier knew he was being dramatic, but this really was a big deal, to him at least. Here he was, walking into a situation that he couldn’t simply charm his way through like normal, and if it didn’t go well then he couldn’t employ his usual tactic of never speaking to anyone involved ever again, either.

“You don’t need to have a meltdown, Jask.” Jaskier’s attention pulled back to his witcher at the nickname, his heart fluttering a little.

“But Geralt this is really important! What if they don’t like me? What if I say something wrong and ruin everything? So many things could go wrong!”

“And you call _me_ the pessimistic one.”

“ _Geralt_!”

“You’re the one who agreed to come with me to Kaer Morhen for the winter. It’s not some royal banquet, Jask, it’s just Eskel, Lambert, and Vesemir.”

Even hearing the names of the people Jaskier was terrified of disliking him made his heart rate double.

“But Geralt, they’re your _family_! If they don’t like me then what? At best, they’ll tell me to never be seen on this side of the continent again, and at worst I’m sure they’ve got lots of creative ways to off me! I can’t take you away from them, and I don’t want to spend winter apart now we’ve finally got our shit together!”

Jaskier’s nervous rant was cut off by an amused sigh, and he froze in place as he felt a warm hand take his own.

“Jaskier, look at me.” Blue eyes slowly made their way upwards, stopping briefly to glance at the joined hands, before meeting gold. “You’ll be fine. You managed me; the others will be much easier. Granted, Lambert can be a prick, but the other two will be fine. And they’re not going to kill you, we’re not as dramatic as humans. Besides, I wouldn’t let them.”

Jaskier’s mouth opened and closed a few times as his brain worked to process Geralt’s speech, still not entirely used to the man speaking more than a few words at a time. He was brought back to the real world by a squeeze on his hand, Geralt’s other hand moving to capture his free hand in its grasp.

Jaskier breathed deeply, focusing on the slow movements of Geralt’s fingers across his hands, a gentle and tender movement that was reserved for when they were alone.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” Jaskier glanced up at his lover’s face sheepishly, a small smile appearing on his face as gold eyes searched his. “Sorry, I know I’m being dramatic again, but I really want them to like me, Geralt. I don’t want to lose you.” He trailed off quietly.

Jaskier felt a tug on his hands, pulling him towards the other man’s body. He let himself be pulled, stumbling forward with no resistance, finding himself against Geralt’s torso, the witcher letting go of his hands in favour of wrapping his strong arms around his bard.

Jaskier sighed and melted into the embrace, pressing his head against his chest, closing his eyes as his head was tucked under Geralt’s chin. He focused on the steady heartbeat he could hear, slowly getting his breathing and his thoughts under control.

“It’ll be fine. They’re not going to send you away, and we both know I’d go with you if they did.”

Warmth bloomed inside Jaskier’s chest at the reminder that Geralt loved him just as much as he loved his witcher.

“You’ve gone soft.” Jaskier murmured into his chest, tightening his hold on the other man as he spoke. He felt Geralt’s chest rumble in amusement, then felt the soft kiss that was pressed against the top of his head.

“Just for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it! I hope you all enjoyed this little journey, please let me know what you thought and if you have any ideas for what could be next!


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